Crisis
by JanetD
Summary: Burton is taken ill.


**Title:** Crisis (1/1)  
**Date Written:** 2/24/02  
**Author: **JanetD  
**Rating:** PG (language)  
**Summary:** Burton is taken ill.  
**Author's Notes:** I relied on my layman's knowledge of medicine in writing this story. My apologies in advance to anyone in the medical field who may read this and take note of any glaring omissions/mistakes/implausibilities.   
**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any resemblance between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual organization is purely coincidental.  
  
Burton and Nick Fallin were sitting in Burton's office at Fallin & Associates discussing the upcoming meeting with Melvin Fischer of Fischer's Frozen Foods. Mr. Fischer was interested in selling his company to a multi-national food processor, and they were expecting him in for a meeting at 10:00AM. It was 9:54AM now.  
  
Burton was seated behind his broad desk. His son, Nick, had taken his customary seat in front. They had been tossing around various options for the sale of the company for about the last fifteen minutes. Burton had been speaking, when suddenly he trailed off in the middle of a sentence. Nick was just about to prompt his father to complete his thought when he realized that Burton had grown quite pale. Looking more closely he also saw a sheen of sweat on his father's face. Nick hesitated, but then asked, Are you all right? You look...you look kind of pale.  
  
Burton didn't respond right away. Nick leaned forward, and was just about to ask again, when his father said, Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Think I might be coming down with a touch of flu, that's all. Just as Burton finished speaking, there was a brief knock at the door. His assistant, Sheila, peeked her head inside. Mr. Fischer and his associates are here, she said pleasantly. I've just shown them into the conference room.  
  
Uh, thanks, Sheila, Burton replied absently. Sheila nodded, and closed the door. Nick got up from his chair, and waited for his father to rise as well. But Burton was not moving. Nick asked. Burton didn't answer. He seemed to be staring off at nothing. Nick tried again. said Burton, coming out of his daze to look directly at his son. Nick cocked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the conference room, and raised one eyebrow. The meeting with Fischer, he said. Oh, right, Burton replied. He picked up his portfolio, and stood up slowly. Nick watched his father for a moment, then turned and headed for the door. His hand was just about to reach for the doorknob when he heard a loud **_thud_.**   
  
Nick turned back to see his father lying on the floor, halfway between his desk and the conference table. He cried out, and hurried over to his father. Burton was lying on his back, with his legs curled to one side. He was not moving, and his eyes were closed. Nick said again urgently, as he knelt beside him. Burton made no response. Nick placed his hand on his father's throat, and felt for a pulse. He was immeasurably relieved when he found the reassuring beat beneath his fingers. He realized then that he had been holding his breath, and let the air out of his lungs in a loud sigh.  
  
Nick was reaching to loosen his father's collar and tie when he heard the door open again. Glancing behind him, he saw it was Sheila. I heard a noise, she began, then saw Burton. Oh my God, what happened? she asked, hurrying forward.   
  
I don't know, Nick replied distraughtly, he, he just collapsed. He finished loosening the clothing around his father's neck, and then pulled his cell phone from his own pocket. He pushed the button to dial , and waited impatiently for the operator to answer.   
  
Nick said. My father has just collapsed in his office. He's unconscious.... Yes, yes, I checked his pulse.... Yes.... No, I don't know. Please, we need an ambulance right away.... 437 Grant St., suite 1900, Fallin & Associates. All right, thank you.  
  
Nick looked up at Sheila, and said, They're sending help. He rested an index finger atop his upper lip as he thought for a second. Then he added. Sheila, would you go tell the receptionist to send the paramedics back here when they arrive? As Sheila started to leave, Nick spoke again, No, wait. First go in and tell Mr. Fischer that my father's been detained. That he's not going to be able to meet with him today. If he seems really upset tell him it's a family emergency, or something. Just get them all out of here as quickly as you can, okay?   
  
Sheila nodded, and Nick continued, Then **you** go up front and wait for the paramedics.   
  
Sheila said, Yes, okay.   
  
And Sheila, Nick added, verbally underlining the weight of his words, Don't mention this to anyone else yet. All right?   
  
Sheila nodded again, and left.  
  
Wiping a hand down his face, Nick turned his attention back to his father. He examined him for any signs of returning consciousness, but found none. Burton's face was still lax. He appeared to just be sleeping peacefully. Nick put a hand to his father's wrist, and checked his pulse again. It seemed strong, though rapid. Just like mine about now, he found himself thinking. Getting up, he walked over to the credenza, and wet his handkerchief with water from the carafe. Returning to kneel next to Burton, he stroked the damp cloth gently over his father's face, and said urgently, Dad, it's Nick. Can you hear me? Dad?   
  
Burton showed no sign of response. Nick sat back on his heels, and tried to think what else he could do, but he couldn't think of a thing. At least, he told himself, his father's pulse was strong, and he was breathing. That was the important thing. Help would be here any minute. He would just have to wait until it arrived.   
  
Nick cast his mind back to the conversation with his father of only a few minutes before. Now that he thought about it, Dad had seemed a little out-of-it the whole time. And he had definitely looked unwell there at the end. The color had seemed to drain completely from his face. I should have paid more attention, Nick berated himself silently. I could see he wasn't well. Why didn't I do something? He frowned at himself angrily. But, nothing like this had ever happened before. In Nick's experience, his dad had rarely been sick. When he was, Burton tended to ignore it, just going full bore -- business as usual. The original iron man, that was Burton Fallin. Nick frowned again.  
  
Stroking his hand through the hair on the back of his head, Nick glanced around the room. No, there was nothing there to help him now. He'd just have to wait for the paramedics. His mind turned again to possible explanations for his father's collapse. What if it was something really serious, a heart attack or a stroke? What if his father...what if his father...died? It was like an abyss opening before his feet, all yawning blackness. His father...gone. No (he took a mental step back from the precipice), no, he couldn't think about that. His father was going to be all right. He had to believe that. He had to.   
  
Yet...Dad was so still. He looked so...helpless. Nick had never seen him like this. On impulse, he reached down, and gently clasped his father's hand. Without conscious thought, he began stroking the back of it lightly with one thumb. Suddenly, he was assaulted by the all too vivid memory of his mother's hand in his, that last morning before she died. The parallels were too real. Like a child burned by a flame, he abruptly drew his hand back, unwelcome tears filling his eyes. he thought to himself forcefully, I am not going there. He struggled to find something to distract himself. He began to think about the appointments his father might have scheduled for this afternoon. I'll have to ask Sheila, he thought. They'll have to be canceled, as well. And the staff will have to be told something. He tried to think what his father would want him to do in a situation like this. He thought he knew -- keep it all as quiet as possible, for now at least. His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of an approaching siren. Thank God! he said aloud, with a profound feeling of relief.  
  
In just a couple minutes, Sheila opened the door, and two paramedics walked through, large boxes of medical equipment in their hands and atop the gurney they brought into the office. It was a man and woman, both around Nick's own age. The woman's badge said , the man's . Sheila had followed them into the room, and now closed the door behind her. Moving a little to one side to be out of the way, she watched the proceedings silently.   
  
The woman, Hernandez, said, Can you tell me what happened?  
  
Getting to his feet to make room for the paramedics, Nick replied, the distress evident in his voice, He just...collapsed. We, we'd been talking. Then we both got up to leave the room, and he just, just fell to the floor. His voice came close to cracking more than once as he said this.  
  
Nick moved back from his father's side, as both paramedics knelt next to Burton. They began to examine him. Nick watched intently, anxiously rubbing a finger across the top of his lip. Hernandez looked up, and continued her questions.  
  
What's his name?  
  
Nick asked, disturbed from his reverie, but then immediately answered the question, Burton Fallin. He's, he's my father.  
  
Was he complaining of anything before this happened?  
  
No, not really, Nick said, rubbing at the back of his neck. I-I-I noticed he looked pale, and I asked him if he felt all right. He just said he thought he might be coming down with the flu.  
  
Uh-huh. How old is your father?  
  
He, uhm, he turned sixty-eight in September.   
  
Does he have a history of heart problems?  
  
No, no he doesn't, Nick answered quickly, abruptly straightening his posture, and crossing his arms in front of himself protectively.  
  
Hernandez had been feeling the back of Burton's head, and said in an aside to her partner, He's got quite a bump back here. Must have banged his head pretty good when he hit the floor.  
  
Yeah, either that, or on the desk, Burke added.  
  
Returning her attention to Nick, Hernandez asked, What about high blood pressure?  
  
Yeah, at least, I think he still has that, but they control it with medication.   
  
Any other health problems we should know about?  
  
No, no. He hesitated. Not that I know of, he finished lamely. Was it possible there was something his father hadn't told him? Nick shifted on his feet at the disquieting thought, and recrossed his arms.  
  
Burke had finished taking the vital signs, and was calling into the hospital. He described the patient's condition to the doctor, and read off the vitals he had scribbled on his notepad. He listened to the doctor's reply, and then said to his partner. He wants us to hook him up to the EKG, and run a strip.  
  
Nick watched apprehensively, as the paramedics opened up Burton's shirt, pulled up his tee-shirt, and applied the patches for the EKG. They turned on the scope, and ran a strip, the same information they were seeing simultaneously being transmitted back to the hospital. Looks like normal sinus rhythm, Burke said reassuringly to Nick. Nick nodded, knowing this was good news, but the tension did not ease from his face.   
  
In just a moment, the doctor's voice came back over the radio. Burke listened, and then said, Roger that. IV with ringers D5W. Will transport as soon as possible.  
  
What did he say? Nick asked.  
  
Burke replied, He said the EKG looked fine, and we should bring your father on into the hospital.  
  
Which hospital?  
  
Mercy Medical.  
  
Nick nodded distractedly, and watched as the paramedics started the IV, and then lifted Burton onto the gurney.  
  
Ready to go? Burke asked Hernandez. She nodded, and they began their slow procession from the room. Sheila, who had been silent this whole time, opened the door for them, and then watched as they rolled Burton out the door. Her eyes were wet, and the paths of freshly shed tears were visible on her cheeks.  
  
Nick and Sheila followed the paramedics out of the room. As they walked along behind the gurney, Nick bent his head toward Sheila, and spoke urgently, though keeping his voice low.   
  
Cancel the rest of my father's appointments for today. If he gets any calls, just take a message and tell the caller that he'll get back to them when he can. Tell them he's got a very full day...whatever. You know what to do.   
  
Sheila nodded.   
  
If there seems to be anything really urgent call me on my cell.   
  
Nick stopped walking abruptly, and Sheila had to stop swiftly to prevent herself from walking past him. Nick continued, Let the other partners know what's happened. Tell them I'll let them know what my father's condition is as soon as I have more information. Tell them...tell them that my father would want this kept quiet as long as possible. All right? Ask them to see that the staff doesn't let this get spread outside the firm.   
  
Sheila nodded again, and Nick said, Thank you, Sheila. My dad is counting on you. I know you know that.   
  
Sheila nodded, and her tears started flowing afresh. I, I hope he's going to be all right, Nick. Your father...your father's a wonderful man. I'll be praying for him. As she spoke, they reached the glass entry doors.   
  
Thank you, Nick replied automatically, and then added, I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Then he walked out behind the paramedics.  
  
Sheila turned from the door, and was confronted by the curious looks of many of her co-workers. The news of the paramedics' visit had spread like wild-fire, and several people had gathered to see what was going on. Giving them all a quick, reassuring smile, she headed back to deliver Nick's message to as many of the partners as she could find. She could only hope that they'd demonstrate the same quick grasp of the situation that Nick had.   
  
----+----  
  
Nick was stopped at a traffic light. He had made good time so far, and was about halfway to the hospital. But this particular light seemed to be taking an interminable amount of time to change to green. He compressed his lips, and pounded on the steering wheel impatiently. Come on, come on! he urged the light. He was anxious to reach the ER, and find out what the doctors had to say about his father's condition. His mind poured over the unsettling possibilities once more. Even though the EKG strip looked good, his dad could still have had a heart attack. Nick was no medical expert, but he didn't think that one strip was really enough to rule that out. Or, his dad might have had a stroke. Christ! He could hardly bear to consider that possibility -- his highly-capable father, incapacitated by a stroke. he found himself offering a silent plea. Please let him be all right.  
  
At last the light turned green, and the traffic moved forward again. Nick was lucky after that. Most of the lights were in his favor. Within minutes he was turning into the hospital parking lot. He found a space, and hurried quickly toward the doors to the ER. An ambulance was parked at the entrance, but he had no idea if it was the one that had carried his father here, or not. He went through the doors at a half-run, then paused a moment to orient himself, and locate the Information desk. Finding it, he took a few seconds to regain his composure, then strode up to the counter. Excuse me, he said to the woman behind the desk. They just brought my father in. Burton Fallin, can you tell me where he is?   
  
The desk attendant looked up, and said, What was the name again?   
  
Fallin, Burton Fallin, Nick answered impatiently. He saw her glance at a nearby whiteboard, and then she said, He's in with the doctor right now. All I can do is let them know you're here. The doctor will be out to speak with when she can.   
  
Nick said, with a nod.   
  
You can have a seat over there, the attendant added, pointing to a row of chairs in a side alcove.   
  
Nick nodded again. He walked over to the waiting area, but did not immediately take a seat. He was too keyed up to sit down yet. The adrenalin had started to flow once more when he reached the hospital parking lot. So he paced a little, trying to keep a lid on his growing anxiety.  
  
----+----  
  
Twenty minutes had passed, and the doctor had not yet emerged from the examination room. Nick had taken a seat a good fifteen minutes before, but he was finding it hard to hold one position for long. He kept shifting in his seat, first sitting forward, elbows on knees, hands resting on his folded hands, then sitting back, legs stretched out in front of him. Periodically, he would run his right hand through his hair, and then check his watch. He was just about ready to get up and pace again, when he noticed a woman in a white doctor's coat walking toward him. She was in her early to mid-thirties, with blonde hair pulled back and away from her face. The waiting room was almost deserted, so he thought it was likely that this was his father's doctor.   
  
Mr. Fallin? she said, as she approached.   
  
Yes, I'm Nick Fallin, he replied, standing up, and meeting the doctor's eyes with a serious, steady gaze.  
  
I'm Dr. Luttrel, I've been taking care of your father.  
  
How is he? Nick asked quickly, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice.  
  
Well, I think he's going to be fine. We've ruled out any cardiac episodes. We also see no evidence of stroke. It appears that your father has a case of the flu. That caused him to faint, and he hit his head when he fell. That's the reason for the loss of consciousness.  
  
Nick felt a wave of relief sweep through him. He felt almost weightless. His father was going to be all right! He felt a smile breaking out on his face. Is he awake now? he asked eagerly.  
  
Not yet. But, I expect him to be waking up any time. The X-rays show no sign of serious injury. It appears to just be a mild concussion.  
  
Nick nodded his acceptance of this information.  
  
Dr Luttrel continued, I have to tell you that I suspect this is a case of the Malaysian Flu. That in itself can be serious for a man your father's age. We won't know until the lab results come back, but there have been several cases in the metro area, and your father's symptoms are consistent with that strain. We're going to need to get him admitted to the hospital right away.  
  
I see, Nick said, nodding again, hand now resting on his chin. Can I see him now?  
  
Yes, but only for a couple moments. We'll need to get him moved up to the Isolation Ward as soon as possible. If this **is** the Malaysian Flu we don't want to risk exposing other patients.  
  
I understand. Nick bent his head in thought for a second, one hand on his hip, then looked back at the doctor. Do they allow visitors in the Isolation Ward?  
  
Yesss, but immediate-family only. Visitors are required to observe certain safety precautions, of course. In your father's case, that would be wearing a face mask, and following some other simple guidelines. Nick nodded, and Dr. Luttrel asked, Would you like to see him now?  
  
Yes, thank you, Nick replied, and followed the doctor back to the exam room. As they walked in the door, she picked up a cloth face mask from off the shelf. This flu is contracted by breathing in the micro-particles expelled in an infected person's breath, coughs, etc.. So we're only requiring that you wear a face mask when you see your father. It's not necessary to wear gloves or any other type of protective clothing. Casual physical contact is not a problem in this case."   
  
She handed Nick the mask. "Since this is going to be a brief visit you don't have to tie it on. Just hold it over your mouth and nose like this. She pantomimed what she wanted him to do. Nick nodded, took the mask, and held it in front of his face. The doctor nodded approvingly, and pulled up her own mask. She then led Nick over to the exam table.   
  
His father lay there, clothed now in a hospital gown, a light blanket spread over him for warmth. Nick allowed a small smile of relief to show on his face, and reached out for his father's hand. But then he paused just short of his destination. He held his own hand motionless for a several seconds, and then realized that the doctor was watching him curiously. Nick forced his hand to complete the journey, and it came to rest atop the back of Burton's broad hand. Nick felt it's reassuring warmth, and his smile widened. Dad was going to be okay. He was going to be okay.  
  
----+----  
  
Nick sat at his father's bedside in the Isolation Ward. It had been two hours since Dr. Luttrel had made her announcement about his father's condition. She had said she expected him to wake anytime, but Burton was still unconscious. Nick stirred restlessly. He was growing concerned. His hand returned again to the unfamiliar square of white cloth covering his face. He supposed he looked pretty ridiculous in this mask, but at least it wasn't really uncomfortable. He sat back in his chair. He had made all the necessary phone calls shortly after leaving his father's side in the ER. Sheila, and by now, the partners, had been informed that Burton had not been stricken with a heart attack or stroke, it was just a case of the flu. Sheila's relief had been immediately evident in her voice, and Nick had been pleased by this reaffirmation of her concern for his father. He had not mentioned, however, the possible seriousness of the flu itself, deciding to withhold that information until it became necessary, if it became necessary (he corrected himself), to make it known. He didn't want to raise any alarm until he knew that his father's condition was really serious. The tests results had come back about half an hour ago now, though, and confirmed that his father did indeed have the Malaysian Flu, so he realized he might have to rethink that decision.  
  
Nick glanced at his watch, it was almost 1:30PM. He was going stir-crazy sitting here with nothing to do, but he was reluctant to leave his father's side until he was awake, until he had satisfied himself that all his father's faculties were intact, that it had really been the lightheadedness caused by the flu that had brought on his collapse. He was debating going outside to at least make a few phone calls when his father's eyelids fluttered. he said, leaning in toward the bed. Burton's eyelids fluttered again, and then stayed open. He seemed to gaze at the ceiling for a moment, then became aware of the presence beside him. He stared at Nick in confusion. Nick suddenly remembered the obscuring face mask, and said, Dad, it's me. It's Nick. Burton raised his head slightly, and said, in a wondering tone. Nick nodded, and smiled behind the mask. Burton put his hand to his head as he said, Wha-what happened? Where am I?  
  
You're in the hospital. You...you fainted at the office, and hit your head.  
  
  
  
Nick replied, nodding. You've got the flu. The doctor said it made you light-headed, and you fainted.  
  
And I hit my head.... Burton said, still trying to make sense of the information.  
  
  
  
That's why I've got this god-awful headache then.... Ow! he added, while feeling around the back of his head gingerly. Burton pulled his hand away, and gazed at Nick for a moment. Why, why are you wearing that get-up?  
  
Nick bent his head in disconcertment, but looked back at his father as he answered, What you've got...it's contagious. Everyone coming in here has to wear a mask.   
  
What have I got? Burton asked quickly, concern evident in his voice.  
  
The Malaysian Flu.  
  
The Malaysian Flu? Burton repeated, stunned. He laid his head back on the pillow, and gazed at the ceiling for a moment. Then turning his head back to Nick, he added, Where in the hell did I get the Malaysian Flu? I'm a lawyer, not a goddamn merchant marine.  
  
I, I don't know, but the doctor said there'd been several other cases.  
  
After a moment Burton looked around, and asked, What, uh, what time is it?  
  
Nick glanced at his watch, and said, It's a little after 1:30.  
  
Burton mused. Then as the realization of what that meant struck him, he asked with concern, The Fischer meeting...we were getting ready to go into the Fischer meeting. What happened with that?  
  
I had Sheila cancel, had her tell them we'd have to reschedule.  
  
She didn't tell them about this, did she? Burton asked quickly.  
  
No, no, Nick reassured his father. I, I had her make something up.  
  
Burton nodded, Good. Good. Quick thinking, son. Thanks.  
  
Nick nodded in return, subtly pleased with his father's compliment.  
  
After a moment, Burton added, What about folks at the office? What do they know?  
  
Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. he said, with mild consternation, people saw you being wheeled out on the gurney. There wasn't anything I could do about that, and the paramedics couldn't tell me what was wrong with you. He sighed. There, there wasn't a lot of time for damage control. All I could do was ask Sheila to see that the partners instructed the staff to keep it to themselves, to, to try to keep rumors from flying outside the firm.   
  
Burton smiled at Nick in admiration, I'm proud of you, son. Keeping your head in a crisis like that. I couldn't have handled it better myself.  
  
Nick glowed internally at the praise.  
  
Burton asked with a smile creasing his lips, So when do I get out of this joint?  
  
Nick returned his father's smile, but unfortunately for Burton, it was mostly concealed by the mask. With a sigh, he said, I don't know. The doctor said it might be a few days. He rose, suddenly realizing that he should let someone know that his father was awake. I should tell the nurse that you're up, he said, as he started to leave.  
  
Burton said, reaching out and grabbing his son's hand. The emotion was clear in his voice as he added, Thank you, son.  
  
Nick nodded, his features largely unreadable beneath the cloth mask, but his eyes reflecting, in part, some of the emotion he himself was feeling. Burton held his son's gaze for a few seconds, before letting go of his hand. Nick walked to the door, and paused to take off his mask. Then glancing back briefly at his father, he walked out to find a nurse.  
  
The End  
  



End file.
